


Identity Theft

by soundninja888



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Murder, Kidnapping, Murder, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24257428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundninja888/pseuds/soundninja888
Summary: Someone steals Spring Bonnie's image to carry out a series of kidnappings.  William decides to find out who, doesn't really care about the why, and has some fun teaching the kidnapper a lesson.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	Identity Theft

William had read about it in the paper - one town over, suffering from a string of kidnappings. Young children stolen in broad daylight, from parks, from malls, from cul-de-sacs. There was only one connecting factor, one that immediately drew William’s attention. The kidnapper wore a badly stitched together yellow rabbit suit, with a purple bow tie and a purple vest. The resemblance wasn’t just uncanny, it was on  _ purpose _ . This man had the gall to use Spring Bonnie’s image to do his dirty work. And  _ that _ is what pissed William off the most.

Coming up with a reason to skip town wasn’t hard. Henry, sweet, idiotic Henry, was always more than happy to take the kids, let them spend the night. Or, in this case, spend three. William claimed he had to travel to pick up a few parts - which wasn't entirely false. He needed the parts, yes, but he already had and used them. The duplicate Spring Bonnie suit was finished. Now he just needed to find the guest of honor.

It only took him three hours to reach his destination. Once he found a localized map, it only took him 20 minutes to triangulate the area where the kidnapper frequented. The park he sat outside was two miles away from the mall and one away from the cul-de-sac where a set of twins had recently gone missing. Wherever he took them was local - children had energy. Even when afraid, they fought back. That’s why he didn’t prefer kidnapping; getting them to trust you was much easier. Simpler, too. And they were happy, in the end, when they became his.

A flash of yellow caught his attention, breaking his train of thought, pulling him away from happy smiles and cut off screams. He sat up, squinting at a small group of trees. A yellow rabbit held a child down, one mouth over their mouth, the other around their neck. He wondered how any couldn’t notice, couldn’t hear the child kick, their muffled screams.  _ Idiots. _ He scoffed, putting his car into drive as the child went limp and the rabbit slung them over his shoulder, running off.  _ All of them. _

\---

His hunch that the man was local was correct - two streets over, local. It was a rather quiet neighborhood, the house the rabbit ran into at the very end of the cul-de-sac, a good half mile away from any other house. Somewhat hidden, with plenty of trees and bushes planted around the front yard, side yard, and backyard. He  _ could _ understand how the neighbors didn’t notice a man in a bright, yellow rabbit suit carrying a child in through the back door - but, at the same time, he  _ really couldn’t understand why the neighbors didn’t notice a man in a bright, yellow rabbit suit carrying a child in through the back door. _ With that same logic, he could park in the driveway and not be noticed. So he did.

He studied his surroundings before getting out of the car. The houses down the way had no cars outside them - in theory, no one was home.  _ Good. That makes this easier. _ His gaze flicked back to the house, slowly examining it up and down, up and down, until he took in every detail of the front.

The house was a garish shade of green, with a blue door and blue window frames. All the curtains were drawn; he couldn’t see inside but he didn’t need too. He would start the back door. The man had just gotten back, unconscious child in tow - and they wouldn’t stay out for long. The body will shut down after forced oxygen deprivation, yes, but it would just as quickly begin to restart once oxygen was allowed back in. - so he had a few minutes before the door would be locked.

He opened his car door, stepping out, and closing it quietly. He didn’t hear it latch, but that was fine. He didn’t expect this to take long. He walked quickly around the side of the house, squatting down and creeping past the windows as he went. The back door was revealed to be a basement entrance, a set of concrete stairs leading to a small landing with a closed screen door. He could hear struggling, crying, a man grunting with strained effort - the child was awake.

He crept down the stairs, stopping in front of the door. He squinted inside, taking in the room from what he could see. And quite a strange view it was. The basement had concrete flooring and what looked to be concrete walls. Directly in front of the door -  _ never a good idea, never commit any crime in plain view of a doorway _ \- there was a Christmas tree, of all things, brightly lit with multi-colored lights. There were medium to large crates underneath, metal, perhaps, painted and decorated to look like presents. The man, still clad in his rabbit suit, was in the middle of wrestling the child into a crate.

He waited and watched, counting the seconds in his mind, until the man finally shoved the child into the crate, sealing the child in. The child’s screams were muffled, but they were still loud. He placed his hand on the door handle - and the man began to speak. He was out of breath, but reassuring, patting the box gently. Telling them they wouldn’t see home again. They wouldn’t be able to get out. They were going to die and it would be slow, and painful. William exhaled silently through his nose, a muffled laugh. The man would know slow and painful, very soon.

The door handle clicked once and he froze. The man didn’t notice - kept talking.  _ Talking, talking, talking. Nothing but hot air. _ _ Cruelty for cruelnesses sake. Disgusting. _ The door itself, luckily, did not creak when he slowly pushed it open, inch by inch. Once it was wide open, he stepped in. He let the door go. And he smiled.

“Does the talking make you feel better?” William speaks like he’s talking about the weather, ignores the man’s cry of surprise and sudden barrage of questions. His smile shifts, showing teeth and cruelty. His tone matches, talking to the man as if he’s talking to a child that’s been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “Does it make you feel less  _ lonely _ ? Is that why you’re collecting them? Are you _lonely_ _?" _

The man charged at him but William was faster, side-stepping and grabbing the man’s arm as he passed. He pivoted his feet, shifted his weight, and used the man’s momentum to his advantage, throwing him into the wall. The man’s body made a satisfying  _ whunk _ , the harsh wheeze of air leaving the lungs music to his ears. He’d forgotten how much  _ fun _ it was to have a good, one-on-one fist fight. But, adults were never his forte, anyway. Today was an exception and a treat, all in one.

He waited patiently as the man struggled, wheezing. Only when he had managed to push himself to his knees did he walk over and grab his shoulder, pulling him up, and then jerking him down as he raised his knee.

He remembered, suddenly, back to last week, when he had gone over to Henry’s house to watch the wrestling match. He didn’t like the sport, thought it was trivial and boring, but he liked watching Henry watch it. It was funny, and the kids got to play together. He remembered Henry explaining the rules, what moves were legal and when. He understood immediately why neither player could do this while the opponent was down. The knee was all bone - and you could generate a lot of energy with a knee to the head.

The  _ crack _ of his knee meeting the man’s forehead echoed in the room, drowning out the pained hiss seeping from between William’s teeth. That would bruise in a few hours, but bruises were easy to explain, especially bruises on the knee. The man went down, twitched once, and then stayed down. He bent down slowly, taking hold of the head of the costume and pulling it off.

The man was young, maybe in his late twenties, with messy brown hair and now broken glasses. His nose was bleeding and slightly crooked - William must have kneed him lower than he’d meant. But he didn’t quite care, either. Broken bones meant nothing in comparison to what was to come.

He dropped the cloth head beside him, walking over to the metal crate that contained the newly trapped. There were three more beneath the three. He checked them first, and as expected, they all contained children. One was already dead, an unpleasantly, sweet smell wafting into the room once the lid was off. He grunted and sealed the crate again, waving the air away from him until the sweetness dissipated. The other two boxes revealed two live children - though, at this point, they were weak and listless. Malnourished. He closed the crates.

Once he got the lid off the final crate, the child tried to spring out, revealed to be a boy of at least thirteen, and tried to make an escape. He caught them, toppling to the ground with them. He held them down and shushed them with a hand over their mouth as he stabbed deep into their shoulder, dragging the knife across their neck and above the collarbone. The boy couldn’t go home, now - and they were of no use to him. This was the nicest thing he could do for them. And it let him set the scene.

Once the boy stopped moving, eyes dull and lifeless, he stood. He went upstairs and searched for a bathroom, washing his hands thoroughly and cleaning off his knife. He wiped clean everything he touched and returned to the basement, stepping around the puddle of blood and over to the man. He stepped over him, too, headed out of the basement and jogged back to his car. He took the large tarp and two bunches of rope out of his trunk, going back into the basement.

He laid the tarp out, stripped the man out of the costume, and dragged him onto the tarp. He took off his shoes, put on the rabbit feet and stepped into the blood. He ran across the room and up the stairs, into the trees surrounding the house, back towards the original direction the man came from, trailing blood as he went. He took off the ‘shoes’ and went back, going through the scenario in his mind:

_ The kidnapper had a modus operandi - stuff his victims into boxes and talk to them as they slowly die of starvation or dehydration, whichever came first. But the boy had been a challenge. The boy fought back. So the kidnapper panicked and used a knife to end them before they could escape, then escaped into the woods. _

Anything past that, he didn’t care. He wrapped the tarp around the man’s unconscious body and tied the ends and the middle. He lifted him up into his arms with a grunt then shifted the dead-weight onto his shoulder. He left the basement, avoiding the bloody footprints, and walked back to his car. He stuffed the body into the trunk, got back in, and turned on the car.

It was time to go home.

\---

By the time he’d gotten home, he had to knock the man would again - but knocking a groggy man out with a swift punch to the face was easy enough. He called Henry and told him he was back in town earlier than expected but if he’d like to keep the kids for three nights as planned. Of course, Henry agreed. He stopped by for a quick visit, gave Elizabeth and Christopher a hug - Michael greeted him but was too busy playing atari with Charlie. That was fine with him.

He stopped by Fredbear’s and parked around the back. No one questioned him when he slid through the back door, heavy tarp over his shoulder. One of his employees even offered to help - he politely declined. He waited until no one was around before pressing in the wall panel that opened the hidden door to his hidden room. He stepped inside, dropping the body, and sealing the room again. He untied the ropes and unrolled the body from the tarp.

The man’s face was bloodied and bruised, skin paler and dried blood below his nose and at the splits in his lip. He studied his face for a moment before patting down his pockets - he should have done this at the house, but, hindsight was 20/20. He found a wallet in the back pocket -  _ why on Earth would he keep his wallet on him when he was kidnapping, what sense did that make - _ and checked the contents. Glanced over the I.D.  _ Barney. _ He hummed, looking over his face again.

“You look like a Barney.” He flicked the I.D. into Barney’s face when he didn’t get a reply, snorting when it bounced off his forehead and landed a few inches away. He didn’t speak anymore and got to work instead.

He dressed Barney in the duplicate spring-lock Spring Bonnie suit, piece by piece, starting with the feet and the legs, ending with the head. He placed the head on carefully, with respect to the machine and not the occupant. The head, he left empty of all metal and hard plastic parts - in fact, the only part of the suit that contained any spring-locks  _ was _ the chest piece. Once the spring locks were activated, Barney wouldn’t be able to move anyway. But, he wasn’t going to do  _ anything _ before Barney woke up.

Which, given by how limp he still was as William adjusted him till he was sitting against the wall, legs stretched in front of him, was going to take a while - he sits on the opposite wall and crosses his legs, getting comfortable.

He could wait.

\--

Barney groaned and William jerked awake - he hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but he'd always been a light sleeper, so there was no threat of escape. He stretched and cracked his back, rising to his feet as Barney groggily mumbled questions.  _ Where am I? Who are you? Why can’t I feel my legs?  _ William answered them one by one, speaking slowly. Not to be mean, no, but he’s sure the man has a concussion by now and he’s had one of those - they’re terrible and the constant ringing in your ears was deafening.

“You need not worry where you are. My name is William Afton. And you’ve been sitting for, I’d say, more than six hours. I’m sure your circulation has been cut off, at least partially.”

He crosses the room, taking his time, stepping on either side of his legs. He crouches down slowly, resting his arms against his knees.

“You should be asking me  _ why _ you’re here. Go ahead. We have all night.”

It takes Barney a couple tries, a few futile attempts to rock forward and stand, William gently shushing him and gently pushing his shoulder each time.

“Don’t move now. You won’t want to set them off just yet.”

“Wh...why am...here…”

“Very good.” He keeps his hand on Barney’s shoulder, rhythmically tapping against it. “You’re here because you decided to use the image of one of  _ my creations _ to hide your face as you did your dirty work. You don’t even have a reason for killing them, do you?” Barney groaned in response. “I thought not. Why would you, torturing them as you do? Days. Possibly weeks. At least when I take them, it’s on their happiest day.” Each tap of his finger, he brings it closer and closer to the little niche between the head piece and the chest piece. “They suffer, but not for long. Never for long. But you, you’ll take a long time.”

He reaches in and crooks his finger, nudging the spring-trap loose. All at once, the mechanisms inside snap, a series of quick, loud clicks, and Barney’s eyes go wide, a wet, strangled sound ripping from him as the metal and hard plastic rip through his clothing, through his skin. He pulls his hand away and watches Barney twitch and struggle - he coughs once, wet, and blood spurts from the mouth of the mask. William takes a few steps back, sits directly in front of Barney’s legs.

“You’re an adult - so we have plenty of time to talk. That’s what you liked to do, wasn’t it? Talk to your victims? Tell them how  _ slow and painful  _ their death would be? Well, I suppose I should inform you as to what your end will be, now that it’s begun.” Barney coughed again, arms and legs twitching still, as if he had any chance of running away. As if he had any chance of surviving.

“You see, Barney, what you’re experiencing now is an amalgamation of triggers set off by that spring-trap. All the metal and hard plastic is piercing your body, puncturing your organs. Your blood is going to ooze  _ slowly _ out of those, oh, hundred or so puncture wounds. Ah, before we continue, let me say this - this is purely going to be a one-way conversation. Your vocal cords have been severed by the neck piece and if you even try to talk, your lungs will fill up with blood. It won’t hasten it any, your body will naturally fight back, make you cough it up.  _ In fact, it’ll only make the process more painful. _ ”

He felt his anger boiling but he didn’t want to lash out. He wanted to savor this, he had points to make - he knew what he wanted to say. So he fell silent for a few moments, calming his breathing. Listened to wet, panicked wheezing, watching the fur of the suit slowly turn crimson as blood seeped through the cracks. Only when he was calm again, did he ask,

“What made you think you could use what was  _ mine _ ? What thoughts ran through your head? That it would be easy to replicate? That you could put suspicion on me, on my animatronics? Did you think I wouldn’t find you?  _ Did you think you were safe from me? _ ”

Barney’s limbs slowly stopped twitching. William glanced at his watch - ten minutes had passed already. They do say time flies when you’re having fun. There was probably a good ten or so more minutes, though. His panicked breathing was still strong, albeit a bit wetter and stuttered with even wetter coughs, blood trickling from the suit's mouth.

“You know, going back to what I said earlier, when I take them, when I make them mine, I do it so I can create. So they can live in their happiest day forever. So I can give my animatronics  _ life _ . All you do is take it. Disgusting.”

“Y…hrk…”

William’s eyebrows rose. “I was serious when I told you not to speak. But, go ahead, try again.” He motions for him to give it another go.

Barney coughed twice, hard, chest shaking, groaning when the metal dug in. It took him three tries, and it still wasn’t a complete sentence, but he managed to get out one two words. “Y...ou...in...sane…”

William blinks. Then he laughs. He laughs and it’s full of humor and booming, brings tears to his eyes that he has to wipe away. It leaves him with a small case of the giggles that he has to calm himself down from, apologizing as he wipes his eyes again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, but - oh, God, that was  _ funny. _ How could you, of all people, call me  _ insane _ . You’re the one  _ locking children into metal crates painted like Christmas gifts under a tree in your basement. _ ”

He tries to speak again but falls into another coughing fit, ending in silence. William’s eyes narrow and he leans forward, listening. It’s quiet, but Barney is still panting. He’s still alive - for now.  _ Better make this quick. _

“I’m afraid I have to rush the explanation now, since you’ve decided to waste our time. There is something in the body called  _ remnant _ \- it mingles with the soul and, depending, has the consistency and color of blood. Because it mingles with the soul, it often holds a small amount of the person’s personality. I collect the remnant, sometimes the soul too, but that’s if I have the time. That’s a bit more of an arduous process than collecting the remnant. Anyway, I collect the remnant and then I inject it into my endoskeletons to give them life. The personalities combine with my animatronics A.I.. You, however, are not going to become one with that suit. You, I am trying a new experiment with.”

He stands and walks over to the desk, plucking an empty leather bound book from it. He walks back to Barney, holding it in front of his face for him to see. “I’m going to put your remnant into this, let it seep into the pages. It should, in theory, allow you to possess the book. You’ll be able to write out your life story -  _ you won’t be lonely anymore, with words on the page. _ ”

Barney’s breathing slowed. William reached down with his free hand, pulling the head of the suit off. He gets on one knee beside him, places the head down, and leans in closer. He looks Barney in the eye, smiles kindly as the light leaves them, and the last breath left him.

“Let this be a lesson to you, Barney.  _ You do not touch what is  _ **_mine._ ** ”

**Author's Note:**

> My friend had a dream; in the dream, she found a book that told a few short stories about a murderer named Barney. Barney liked to kidnap kids and shove them into large boxes decorated like Christmas presents. He left the presents under the tree and talked to them as they slowly starved to death (or dehydration, whichever came first). The more she read about Barney, the more a phantom Springtrap started to appear and haunt her. Come to find out, ol' Barney's in the suit and he's able to come out to play because he's possessed the book. She proceeds to hit him (multiple times) with a car.
> 
> The above story is what happened when she suggested to me that William caught wind of Barney's shenanigans and decided to McMurder him for his actions. Garbage Kidnapper, meet Garbage Man.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :3c


End file.
